


Android 975

by Juladi_R_Porter



Category: Daft Punk, EDM
Genre: AU, Android!Thomas and Human!Guy, Anxiety, Bullying, Child Abuse, Depression, Domestic Violence, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juladi_R_Porter/pseuds/Juladi_R_Porter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the distant future, Android - 975 (Thomas) is assigned to the house of de Homem-Christo. His objective is to observe the eldest child, Guy-Manuel, who is allegedly being bullied in school, and to find proof of that accusation. Guy and Thomas quickly become friends, forming an unbreakable bond, that neither fully understand. Thomas and Guy have many obstacles to overcome together, like snow, learning to cook, and coping with Guy’s depression and social anxiety, but one of the biggest obstacles they face, is learning to accept their affections for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - His Story

Within the securely guarded, steel plated doors of Electroma State’s courtroom, sat the remaining pieces of the bloody puzzle that was The Case of Android Number 975. No one made eye contact, and no one spoke, for the court was in session, and everyone was treading on thin ice. The air was frigid, stale, and quiet, and the anticipation to begin was slowly starting to creep up Sonny and Joel’s spines.

The two men sat at the counsel table on the right side of the courtroom, anxious and full of doubt. They peered at the individuals in the courtroom, taking in the white and grey uniforms lined with hues of blue and purple that publicized the extreme wealth and authority that was present, and sunk down into their seats. Wearing budgeted black clothes with deep red around their necklines and the end of their sleeves, both felt severely out of their element, and they certainly didn’t feel welcomed.

“All rise.” Said the purple wearing Bailiff, his tone stern and strong. Those who were seated quickly rose to their feet as the Bailiff continued with his formatted announcement. “The date is April the 23th, of the year 2136. Department Three of the Superior Court of Electroma is now in session. Judge Kavinsky presiding. Please be seated.” He said, and the members of the courtroom sat back down in their seats.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.” Said Judge Kavinsky, his loud voice projecting to every corner of the room. “Are both parties ready?”

“Ready for the defense, Your Honor.” Said the defendant’s white and green suited attorney, straightening the papers on the counsel table as he spoke. The members of the court looked to Sonny and Joel for their confirmation to begin, and the two men glanced at each other, their eyebrows tilted in worried expressions. “Are you ready for this?” asked Joel softly, and Sonny forced a smile.

“Ready if you are.” Muttered Sonny, knowing that they would postpone the hearing if he were not ready, and he truly didn’t want to procrastinate this trial any longer. Joel offered a smile back at Sonny, and then turned his attention to Judge Kavinsky.

“P-- Plaintiffs are ready.” Said Joel, who mentally kicked himself for stuttering. After a few quiet seconds passed, Sonny quickly added, “Your Honor.” to Joel’s incomplete statement.

Judge Kavinsky’s expression was unreadable as he gestured to the man standing to his right. “Will the Clerk please swear the jury?” said Judge Kavinsky, as the Clerk nodded and made his way to the jury stand. After the Clerk had the blue and green plaided jury swear before the court, and told them to be seated, the Frenchman’s attorney stood up out of his seat. He looked to his client, nodded, and took to the front of his counsel table.

“Your Honor and ladies and gentlemen of the jury: during this trial, you will hear no real evidence against my client. You will come to know the truth: that Monsieur de Homem-Christo was a loving father and husband, who in no way shape or form ever mistreated any member of his family. He is accused of atrocities against his own blood, but you will see that the Plaintiff’s evidence is simply hearsay and false accusations. My client is not guilty.” Said the attorney, who then looked to Sonny and Joel, awaiting their response.

As Sonny and Joel both stood up and walked to the front of their counsel table, Sonny cleared his throat and began with, “Your Honor and ladies and gentlemen of the jury: Sir de Homem-Christo was not a loving father or husband, and soon you will see that the evidence we have to present in this court will quickly disprove the defendant’s statement, and is unquestionably true. We will prove to you that the defendant is guilty as charged.”

“The Plaintiffs may call their first witness.” Said Judge Kavinsky. Joel and Sonny looked at each other nervously, and Sonny turned to face the judge.

“Um… Your Honor… We don’t have any witnesses… unless we count ourselves.” Explained Sonny, but Judge Kavinsky said nothing in return. He only stared down at Sonny until the man felt uncomfortable continuing to stare back at him.

“Don't get us wrong, we do have evidence!” said Joel, eagerly reaching into his pocket to pull out a small, rectangular device. “It’s all on this!” He said, as he held the device out for Judge Kavinsky to see, his bored expression unwavering as he inspected the device from afar.

“What is its significance? And how did you obtain it?” Asked Judge Kavinsky, his dark blonde eyebrows rising ever so slightly.

“It’s a Daft Core hard drive that shows video of the truth behind the house of de Homem-Christo. It was given to us by T-Android 975.” explained Joel, as the members of the jury gasped in disbelief at the mention of the famed android that had been the subject of conversation for the last couple of months. Ignoring their incredulous gasps, Joel continued, “And we would like to present it to you and the jury as evidence.”

“Objection! You can’t present illegally obtained evidence in the courtroom!” Shouted Monsieur de Homem-Christo’s attorney.

“It was not illegally obtained!” Refuted Sonny. “He gave it to us! There is clear evidence of that fact on the hard drive also!” Assured Sonny, who then went on to address the judge. “Your Honor, I swear to you that this hard drive was not illegally obtained. What it is, though, is the only piece of evidence we have, besides our own word, so if you don’t let us show it, then this trial would have been an enormous waste of everyone’s time.” Said Sonny sternly. The courtroom fell silent again as Judge Kavinsky contemplated his decision.

“Objection overruled.” Said the judge finally, and Sonny and Joel released a breath they didn’t know they were holding in. Judge Kavinsky gestured to the Clerk to take the hard drive, and Joel handed it to him without delay.

“The data on the hard drive will be displayed as a video. The video is everything that really happened in the house of de Homem-Christo, starting with the arrival and first activation of Android 975.” Said Joel, as the Clerk made his way to the large screen that hung on the wall behind the judge’s podium, removed the cover for the connection ports, and plugged in the hard drive. “Please pay close attention, because you will see everything you need to make a reasonable decision.” Continued Joel, addressing everyone in the courtroom.

As the video began to play, small, muffled voices were heard through the loudspeakers in each corner of the room, but the screen displayed nothing but blackness. Sonny scolded as his gaze unwillingly wandered to the accused Frenchman and he saw that the man’s expression was blank and unreadable. His attorney whispered something into his ear, and he scrunched his nose, waving the man away with his hand, and turned his attention to the video.

The court remained silent as the voices from the loudspeakers became louder and clearer, and red words began to type themselves across the screen…


	2. My Objective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Android 975 makes his first appearance at the house of de Homem christo and meets his master, and the subject of his objective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6/9/14 UPDATE  
> I merged this chapter and the newest chapter together, so now this chapter is much longer. DON'T MISS THIS UPDATE!!

Daft Core – System Version 5.32  
Copyright © 2135, Daft Core Technologies

Loading Main Processor: B4nG4Lt3r-975-PRO…

B4nG4Lt3r-975-PRO Status: ONLINE

CPU Temperature Control Status: ONLINE

CPU Audio Detection Status: ONLINE

Visual Sensors Status: ONLINE

ATA Drive Status: ONLINE

Starting System Configuration…

System Status: ONLINE

I watched curiously as red programing codes ran across my vision while my main processors were activating. Silently I was informed that all of my internal systems were working properly by the heads up display within my fiber optic eyes. The scenery was dark, but my auditory sensors were receiving sound. 

“He's online!" said a muffled voice that I could barely make out. As artificial eyelids fluttered open, revealing a pair of generic brown irises, vivid light blinded me, and a small shriek escaped my vocalizer. Hands quickly came up to shield my sensitive visual sensors, and when I flinched, hearing the loud voice again, I realized the hands were my own.

“Hey, it’s alright, Bud! I know it’s scary, but the light won’t hurt you.” laughed the voice. I did not trust the voice, but after checking my intellectual programming, finding that it was correct in its assumption, I removed my hands from my face and slowly opened my eyes once more.

Upon lifting my eyelids, I saw many things I had never seen before. The windows stood eight feet high, and the lavish blue and gold lined black furniture sat scattered about the room. Hanging white lights trailed to the magnificent staircases that stretched to the halls of the upper level.;

Placed high upon the golden wall, rested a large wooden frame. I stared at the picture within the frame, examining the beings inside. A tall, lean, brunette man stood next to a short, stout, brunette woman, who sat with her hands clasped together in her lap. Two young boys stood next to her who both, too, had brunette hair.

Each of the people in the photo had the same dull brown eyes, except for the taller, longhaired boy, who had somewhat saddened blue eyes. The picture’s occupants were beings I had seen before. Though I had never physically seen them, the de Homem Christo family and all their credentials had been programmed into my database. I soon came to realize that the taller boy who had grabbed my attention was in fact the subject of my objective.

I recognized the young human's soft features, his round blue eyes, and his long and wavy dark brown hair from the objective body index. It, and a list of personality traits, had been encoded into my processor, attached to the name: Guillaume Emmanuel de Homem Christo. I stared at the young boy and wondered why he seemed so much different from the rest of his family, but my time to wonder was cut short.

“You okay, Bud?” asked the voice, and my gaze snapped away from the photo. I tilted my helm lower, towards the sound of the voice, and I finally discovered where it was coming from.

“I am functioning properly.” I reassured the short, stumpy man as he placed two strong hands onto my naked shoulders.

“That’s great!” he exclaimed, removing his hands from my shoulders.

“I am curious. Who are y-?”

“Don’t you worry; you’ll get used to the world soon enough!” encouraged the man, attempting to quell my inquisitiveness. His body, covered in an orange and grey delivery uniform, was undersized, broad, and human.

As were the two individuals I had not seen while I was busy with the picture within the wooden frame. I immediately straightened my stance, instinctively trying to satisfy the three humans standing unleveled before me. Taking a quick glimpse back at the wooden frame, and then back down at the man and woman, I came to the conclusion that they were one in the same. The man wore the same tight frown and blue and gold lined silver garments, while the woman wore the same proper smile and a grey, gold, and blue laced dress. 

"The boys at the factory already programmed him with everything you said on your order form, so, if you find that anything needs to be changed, feel free to contact Daft Core Technologies and we'll take care of it at a small cost. I just need one of you to sign right here, and I'll be out of your way." Explained the deliveryman, this time addressing the human couple.

Reaching into his strap-on tool bag, the deliveryman pulled out a small, silver device that held a digital document on its screen. He scrolled down to the end of the document with his finger and held it and a small stencil out to Monsieur de Homem Christo, who swiftly took the stencil and signed his full name on the screen. Handing the device and stencil back to the man, Monsieur gave a small, unfeeling smile, and the man chuckled nervously.

"I hope you're happy with your purchase. Now, you have a wonderful day, Sir." Said the deliveryman cheerfully, holding his hands at his hips. Monsieur smiled accordingly, and the man gave him a small salute. Then he turned to Madame, bowed, and said, "You have a wonderful day also, My Lady."

"Merci." Smiled Madame, waving a goodbye to the deliveryman. He chuckled again, waving a gloved hand back at her, and stepped down off of the doorsteps. Monsieur did not wait for the man to make his way to the Daft Core Technologies Delivery Hover-Van parked on the street before shutting the door with approximate force. 

I watched as Monsieur approached me with a blank expression. “Do you know who Guillaume Emmanuel is?” he asked, and I nodded.

“Oui, Monsieur. Guillaume Emmanuel is the subject of my objective.” I said knowingly.

“Bon. Do you know who I am?” asked Monsieur, and I answered appropriately.

“Oui Monsieur. You are Monsieur de Homem Christo. You are Guillaume Emmanuel’s father and my master. I shall follow orders only given by you.” I explained, and Monsieur’s lips curled into a smile.

“Très bon. Now, I can’t have you walking around scaring my servants. Let’s go fetch you some clothing from my room. I’m sure I have some clothes that will fit your framework for now.” He said, and led me up the gold and blue staircase. 

Upstairs, in the room marked by the simple “Monsieur et Madame” Monsieur opened the door and we both walked into a blue and golden walled room. I gazed around the room as Monsieur searched for clothes.

“Are you going to just stand there and be useless? Come over here and let me see if this will fit.” Commanded Monsieur, and I quickly approached him, stumbling over the newly formed piles of clothing. Monsieur had found me a large, light grey shirt that I slipped into easily. Legwear took longer to find, but eventually we found a pair of black denim pants that looked as though they had never been worn.

Now fully clothed, I followed Monsieur down the staircase and to the foyer once again. “Why don’t you go find Guillaume? I believe he is in the garden outside those doors.” Instructed Monsieur, pointing towards the large glass doors stationed on the far wall. I nodded and began to make my way to the glass doors, but a strong hand grasped my shoulder and pulled me back.

Monsieur held me close to his lips and said, “If you try anything funny, trust me, it won’t be funny when I have you melted down and turned into something suitable to my own tastes. I trust you understand and will not harm any member of this family?”

“Yes, Monsieur. I will not harm any human.” I agreed, my processors whirling about not being able to complete my objective if I was melted down. He stared into my non-blinking eyes for a moment before releasing his grip on my shoulder. I nodded and finally Monsieur dismissed me. “Now go. I would like to speak with ma Madame in private.” He said, and I willfully left.

“Yes, Monsieur.” I said again, and proceeded to the glass doors, this time uninterrupted. When I opened the doors, I was greeted by an even more vivid light than what had been inside the house. Further research led me to conclude that the light was simply what was called sunlight, which came from the fiery ball 92,960,000 miles away in space called the sun.

I became wired to the white, puffy, cumulus clouds floating far above, surrounding the sun, and watched as they all moved in unison with the wind. I would have stayed staring if I had not received an order. 

Disconnecting from the view, I walked along the stone path, searching for the boy I had seen in the photo on the wall. Steadily I walked as I remembered the picture explicitly. I found myself eager to see a certain strong jaw, thin nose, and a set of radiant eyes again. As I walked I realized that I was no longer paying any attention to what I was seeing, but to the memory of the boy in the framed photo in the foyer.

Though I was distracted, I heard a small cry of pain coming from somewhere in the large greenery. Remembering my objective; protect Guillaume at all costs, my legs moved faster, not eager to fail. Coming to a small meadow of sunflowers, I found the distressed boy sitting on his knees with his back towards me. I swiftly approached him, bent down to his level, and placed a hand on his shoulder, asking if he was okay. 

The boy quickly jerked away from my touch and turned around to face me, his bloody hand held close to his chest. His fearful expression shifted to confusion when he saw me, and I wondered briefly why he was so scared. My mouth hung open, surprised, for I knew that the boy sitting before me was Guillaume, just like in the photo, but his eyes were so extraordinarily vibrant in person.

“W-who are you?” asked Guillaume suspiciously, hands and voice shaking.

“I am Android Number 975, model 5.” I responded, and Guillaume’s lower lip twitched.

“A-an Android? W-why are you here?” he asked, the pain of whatever happened to his hand clear in his cracking voice. Though my processor begged me to help Guillaume, I answered the question the best way I knew how. “My master, your father, purchased me to make sure you would be safe going to and from your place of education. I was ordered by him to find you and make your acquaintance.” I promptly said, but he only continued to stare at me with those extravagant doubtful eyes.

“May I help you with your injury?” I inquired, but Guillaume snorted.

“Non. I-I mean, it hardly hurts anymore. I’ll be okay.” He said, and I watched as he demonstrated his lack of pain, attempting to put pressure on his bleeding hand by using it to support himself. As much as he tried to make me believe he was fine, I knew that he certainly was not fine when he yelped in pain once more, falling to the ground and pulling his hand tightly against his chest.

I went to his aid. “W-what are you doing?” He yelled, but shut his mouth when I gripped both of his wrists, keeping him steady.

“Allow me to help you.” I said softly, and Guillaume trembled beneath me. I waited a total of 47 seconds for a juddering nod before helping Guillaume to sit up. I pulled him against my body, my arms slipping around his waist, and he squeaked again as my hands gently gripped his wounded appendage. Paying no mind to the fearful expression on Guillaume’s face, I picked up a clean white cloth that was lying on the stone next to the small sunflowers and wrapped it around Guillaume’s hand.

When I finished, Guillaume tried to writhe out of my grip, and I let him. He hastily crawled back several feet away from me, watching me the whole way, and stopped when his back hit the surface of a green hedge. He stared at me with confusion in his eyes, and I stared back, waiting for him to make the next move.

“You do not have to be scared. I am an Android. I am unable to harm humans, and my objective is to protect you.” I said, attempting to help soften his fear. “I will not let anyone harm you, including myself.”

“My father would never…” he began, and I wondered what he could have meant by that, but I had no time to ask. “Thank you.” He whispered shakily.

“You are welcome. It is my job.” I said, and Guillaume remained where he was, sitting silently against the green hedge. I stayed still also.

“What happened to your hand?” was my question after a time of silently watching each other. Guillaume used his other hand to sit up straight and looked towards the meadow of sunflowers. “Um… Mon Maman’s flowers are sometimes really unpredictable.” He muttered, and when I leaned in to hear him, he flinched.

“The flowers attacked you?” I asked, pulling back in order to not invade his space. Guillaume paused.

“N-non. The flowers did not attack me.” he said, a soft, involuntary chuckle escaping his throat. “Somehow this gentleman interleaved himself into the meadow.” Explained Guillaume, pushing some of the sunflowers out of the way so that I could see the “gentleman” who had invaded the garden. Remarkably, my eyes met a single black rose, whose bloody vines were wrapped around one of the sunflower’s stems.

“Maman must have dropped a seed from the rose bushes.” Mumbled Guillaume, stroking the dark, blood dripping pedals. I stared at the rose in his hands, and watched uncomprehendingly how gently he caressed the very thing that had wounded him mere moments ago. 

“Would you like me to remove the trespasser from your garden?” I asked, and Guillaume grunted. 

“Non, you leave him be. He was planted here; he will remain here. He is not to blame; he is just a lonely rose.” He explained, and before I could ask, Guillaume clarified, “I am to blame for my own carelessness.”

“Oh.” I supposed. There was something fascinating about Guillaume’s interpretation of what had happened to him, but I did not question it further. Instead, Guillaume stood up, and I stood up with him. Without a word, he began down the stone path, heading towards the front of the yard, which was littered with meticulous decorations and chirping birds. I listened to Guillaume’s low humming, and documented it for later use.

We approached another meadow, but this one was home to white daisies. Guillaume sat down on his knees, as he did in the meadow of sunflowers, but he did not turn his body towards me. “May I stay and sit with you?” I asked, and Guillaume grumbled a soft, “If you want to… Sûr.”

I took a seat next to him and smiled when he would look towards me, but his apprehensive demeanor did not disappear until later. As the time went by, the bright sunlight tucked under the rim of night, and we stayed within the garden, putting the elegant flowers to rest.

The night was soft and quiet while Guillaume and I wondered the large acreage with the company of each other. I supposed the succession of making acquaintanceship with Guillaume was imminent, for I had begun to notice his otherwise hidden smiles and giggles.

The reasons for his snorting giggles were beyond my understanding, but Guillaume insisted that my vocalizer’s slight stutter and my jaw hanging open were perfectly logical reasons to laugh. I contemplated alerting Monsieur of the loose screws in my jaw, but I was not sure that hearing Guillaume’s laughter was a problem.

I gazed at Guillaume, listening to the boy’s humming merged with the sounds of the night; toads chirping and insects buzzing around our faces. The yard was darkened, but we walked along the stone path, where there were lights that trailed along the dirt.

“So, Mon Père sent you?” asked Guillaume after his fit of laughter. I gave him a formulated “Yes.” in confirmation, and he said nothing more. I could tell by his expression that he was speculating, and I was curious to hear his response, but once again, I could not satisfy my need for knowledge. A loud humming abruptly became apparent, and I was fairly sure the noise was not from behind Guillaume’s lips.

“I think that’s ma Mère.” He breathed slowly, reaching into the pocket of his vest. His communicator was bright blue, just like his undershirt, and the rest of the family's possessions, the significance of the color escaping me. 

“Oui, Mère?” said Guillaume, his voice gentle and caring. “Que voulez-vous voulez dire que vous faite souper? Maman, pourquoi n'avez-vous pas attendez pour moi de?” He asked, and I contemplated why he sounded so concerned. 

“Pourquoi écoutez-vous de lui? Vous savez que vous avez besoin de repos!.. D'accord, Maman. Nous serons là momentanément.” He said, dejectedly, clicking the communicator off. Guillaume sighed loudly, and I placed a hand on his shoulder. This time he did not flinch.

“All is well?” I questioned, and Guillaume flashed a disappointed smile. “Ma Maman is a determined woman.” He stated before starting down the lightened path. I followed him at a steady pace, the lights alone guided us back to the house, for it was so dark, even I could not tell were we had gone.

As we approached the glass doors, Guillaume sadly mumbled, “I wish she didn’t cook so well. Maybe then mon Père wouldn’t have her work so much.“ and something within me was not keen to hearing his voice like so.

When we entered the foyer, many servants occupied it. Each of them took a moment to examine me, most likely wondering who I was.  
“Bonjour, how are you?” I asked, but not one servant responded. They only looked at me as though they were immensely confused and moved faster than they had been when we first came in. I looked to Guillaume for guidance, and he graced me with another smile. 

“Come on. Ma Maman is waiting.” He said, and I did not argue. I followed him through a pair of short doors and into the dining room, where Monsieur sat at a spacious table. French cuisine chaotically littered the table, and I wondered why it was so carelessly displayed, contrast everything else in the house of de Homem Christo. 

Madame appeared from what I presumed was the kitchen with a pitcher of liquid that she proceeded to pour into Monsieur’s glass with a quavering grip. 

“Père, is there a reason why you insist on having ma Mère-“ started Guillaume, displeased, but Madame stopped him from continuing. 

“Guillaume, vous pouvez aller récupérer votre frère?” she asked, and Guillaume grunted frustratedly. “Oui, Maman.” He said, and made his leave through the short doors. I remained where I was, feet unmoving until I received an order to do otherwise.

“I thought I told you to stop standing around staring at nothing! Take a seat!” yelled Monsieur, and I quickly pulled out a chair. Before I sat down, I noticed Madame struggling to fill the rest of the glasses. Her arms were shaking as if she were extremely cold, and her posture seemed feeble. 

“Madame, do you need help setting the table?” I inquired, but I felt a sudden sense of regret after the words came out of my vocalizer. 

“Is there something that you misunderstood? I said sit down you useless contraption!” shouted Monsieur, and I apologized immediately. “Don’t apologize. Just obey your master’s orders the first time!” He said, and I nodded while Madame continued to struggle with the pouring of the glasses.

Guillaume returned to the dining room with his arms dangling at his sides. “Maman, j'ai frappé à la porte de Paul, mais il a dit qu'il n'a pas faim.” He muttered, but Madame smiled brightly anyway. 

“C'est bien, mon fils.” She said softly. Guillaume noticed Madame struggling to maneuver the plates and quickly went to assist her. Monsieur glared at them both, and I wondered why he would be upset with someone supplying support to his wife. 

“Juste s'asseoir, maman. Je vais prendre soin du reste.” Said Guillaume as he gently guided her to the chair. “Merci, Guillaume.” She thanked, and Guillaume smiled. “Il n'est pas problème, Maman.”

Once Guillaume completed the task of retrieving the food from the kitchen and placing it on the table, he pulled a seat out next to Madame and sat down softly. He looked to me and then to Monsieur suspiciously.

“Excusez-moi, Père?” he asked, and Monsieur raised his gaze from the plate of food he was preparing to Guillaume.

"Oui, mon fils? What is it you need?" he responded, and Guillaume shifted in his seat.

“I- uh… I just wanted to know why you brought him here?” asked Guillaume, gesturing towards me. Monsieur sat his plate down gently and folded his hands over each other.

“I didn’t bring him here.” Said Monsieur calmly, and Guillaume and I were both confused. I knew for a fact that “Monsieur de Homem Christo” was the name of my master, and he was in fact Monsieur de Homem Christo, so why would he say that he was not?

“Oh… why is he here than?” asked Guillaume.

“Because your mother is deceitful. She thinks that you are unsafe in school, so she went behind my back and ordered that thing under my name.” explained Monsieur, pointing a loose finger at me. Guillaume frowned.

“Oh.” He said, looking towards his mother, who was currently having trouble making a plate. Her hands shook violently, and her eyes looked unimaginably tired. “So he is going to come to school with me?” asked Guillaume as he began preparing a plate for Madame, patiently asking her what she preferred. She graciously thanked him when he was done.

“Oui. He will attend school with you until the end of the year. If he does not accomplish his objective, or fails anytime before that, he will be sent back to the Daft Core Technologies Factory.”

I watched as the family soundlessly ate their meal and I couldn’t help but wonder why they all seemed so strange. Their proper air was expected from their wealth, but the peculiar manners they had presented questions. Why was Guillaume reprimanded for doing the gentlemanly thing; helping his mother when she needed it, while Paul’s disrespect was disregarded? What was wrong with Madame that caused her to convulse so aggressively, and why would Monsieur not allow her to receive help? I stayed silent as I contemplated many things, but suddenly, Monsieur began speaking.

“What happened to your hand, Guillaume? Did he hurt you?” just noticing the bloody cloth. I observed him as he glared at me with suspicion in his eyes. I was indeed an android, but the way Monsieur spoke of my metal frame made me uneasy. I looked to Guillaume and considered the frightened look in his eyes. I elected to answer Monsieur’s question myself. 

“His hand was punctured by rose thorns in the garden, Monsieur.” I explained, not expecting the glare I received in return. As quickly as it came, though, it disappeared.

“Very well then. Votre mère peut nettoyer la table. The two of you can go.” Said Monsieur, grabbing a napkin from under his utensils and wiping his mouth clean of the oily crumbs.

“Non, mon Père! Maman doit se reposer!” exclaimed Guillaume.

“Don’t you talk back to me! Do as you are told!” Demanded Monsieur, banging a fist onto the table. Guillaume flinched at the action, but did not argue any further. Instead, he bid Madame goodnight and quickly removed himself from the dining room. I sat alone, unsure of what to do in the given situation, for after that dispute, I had decided that it would be wise to keep quiet for the remainder of the dinner. Monsieur cleared my confusion.

“Get out of my sight.“ he stated sullenly, and I obeyed. Pushing my seat in, I said goodnight to the two older humans. Following the path that Guillaume had left, I found him in the foyer, sitting on the black and blue sofa with his cheek resting soberly on his palm. I approached him hesitantly, receiving a soft frown as his fingers fiddled with the gold lining of the sofa’s arm.

“Are you okay?” I asked for the second time that day, but Guillaume’s frown remained in place. I stood still in front of him and waited for him to respond, but I did not receive an answer. 

“Come on.” Said Guillaume, rising off of the sofa. “Let me show you around.” Which I silently followed, him as he made his way to the black, blue, and gold staircase that I had traveled earlier that day with Monsieur. Together we walked the halls while Guillaume quickly muttered the names of each significant place in the house; the study, the library, the storage room, etc, until the tour of the mansion was over. I memorized everything very easily.

We came to a door that looked like most of the others; blue painted wood with a black border. Guillaume stopped, turned around to face me, pointed to the blue door and said, “This is my room.” He then pointed to the door directly across the hall, saying, “That is yours. You can recharge in there.” 

“Am I to report there now?” I asked, looking to the door that was now mine. I knew it was not even close to the time that I needed to recharge, for my battery was at 73%, but I did not want to seem disobedient. Fiddling with his hands, Guillaume said, “Well… I figured you might want me to help you prepare for tomorrow, non?”

I watched him twiddle his fingers with a confused expression and asked, “What am I to be prepared for that happens tomorrow?”

“It’s your first day of school. I mean- you don’t even have a name. And I can’t call you ‘Android Number Whatever’… That doesn’t really sound human at all. Also, you’re going to be hanging around me all the time now, and I don’t really know how I feel about that, because honestly I’m a little asocial and you’re a-lot-social and I don’t know how to deal with those kinds of people. It’s not you I just...” Trailed Guillaume, his cheeks turning a darker shade of pink.

“it’s a good thing that I am not a person than. If you wish to call me a name other than my factory number, I will not argue. I understand the concept of blending in. It is only logical that I receive a human name so that the other children do not become confused.” I said, and he stared back at me incredulously, apparently not expecting me to be reasonable. Grabbing the handle to Guillaume’s door, I requested, “May I enter?” and he quickly nodded, allowing me passage.

The room was large, tall, and gold. A small laptop rested on the black framed, blue-sheeted double bed, which sat next to the large black shelf that held countless CDs, and a guitar and synthesizer on the very top. Other musical oriented things like speakers and cords littered around the room. A set of glass doors stood by the far end of the room, which led to a small, black-gated balcony where the garden was visible.

“Um… so… are there any names that you like?” asked Guillaume, his hands held behind his back. I did not have a preference for my own name, but I did find one name especially pleasing to hear.

“Guillaume is a delightful name.” I said, and Guillaume blushed red. He held his own hand and an expression of pure embarrassment graced his face. After he cleared his throat, Guillaume gave me a trembling smile and said, “T-Thanks, but you can’t use my name. That’s weird.” 

I thought for a moment, glancing around the room for something of influential use, but the empty boxes and neatly stacked papers held no interest to me. Guillaume’s blush faded as he watched me while I remained silently stuck in thought.

“Should we look some names up online?” He asked abruptly, plopping himself down on his bed. He kicked the shoes off of his feet, sending them flying across the room, and picked up his gold plated laptop, flipping the screen on.

“If that will help.” I stated, somewhat eager to discover the name that Guillaume would pick for me. Guillaume apprehensively invited me to sit on his bed with him, saying that the both of them could look for names.

“You can recharge while we look, can’t you?” he asked, and I confirmed his assumption by reaching a hand to the back of my head, pulling out my charger, and plugging it into the wall.

“Oh.” Said Guillaume. Nervously, he patted the bed next to him, and I regarded him securely; lifting my wires and walking around the bedframe to sit down next to him. Upon utilizing the internet for our benefit, I was reminded of the extensive list of options for human names. We sat on the bed exploring the World Wide Web for 3.5 hours and we still were no closer to finding a “suitable” name.

Guillaume had almost elected me “Roulé” but he then decided that it was too flashy for a “Red”. Though I was unaware of the meaning behind “Red”, I was content with any name that Guillaume selected for me. He insisted upon choosing a name that fit my personality, no matter how much I tried to convince him that I was an android, and did not have a personality.

As the night grew older, Guillaume’s eyelids grew heavier, and I watched as he desperately attempted to shake out his exhaustion. How he had managed to stay awake this long, I did not know. 

We sat together on his luxurious bed, backs now placed comfortably against the black headboard. Guillaume’s laptop rested in between the two of us, but I soon noticed that his hand had long stopped moving the cursor, and the screen had become dark and dim. He had fallen asleep.

I reached my hand to the laptop’s mouse pad and the screen became lit again. Scrolling through the list, I searched for names that I assumed Guillaume would like, but I had no real reference point. I looked thoughtfully through the list, until I read the next name displayed on the screen.

“Guillaume?” I asked, shaking his shoulders gently. He woke up immediately, mumbling, “Wha-?” and I pointed to the screen. He squinted at the screen and said, “Thomas?”

“Do you like Thomas?” I asked confidently, and Guillaume smiled.

“Oui. Thomas… Not to showy… Not to plain… I like it.” He murmured, and I smiled too. He quickly fell back asleep, and I watched him nestle into his pillow for a small moment before I realized it was not the only thing he was cuddling. Unable to untangle my wires from his grip, I relaxed, settling down next to him. My processors whirled for a while, trying to process the events of the day, before I finally fell into sleep mode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the lateness. I'm sorry, but it's summer now, so hopefully I will be able to write all I want!


	3. My Charge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble awaits when Thomas and Guy go to school.

Though I had put myself into sleep mode intentionally, it was unknown to me what my visual sensors would see when I recovered from that mode. My eyes had not yet opened, but beyond my closed eyelids, I heard low, despondent humming. I pushed myself up against the headboard and my eyes opened, curious to find the source of the melody.

Guillaume stood before me wearing nothing but a blue, feathery towel that fell loosely around his waist. His hair was soaking wet, leaving small droplets that trickled down his back. Velvety light shined in from the glass doors, giving his dripping skin an unusually golden glow. With his back to me, he hummed the tune to the song, slightly swaying his body to the beat. If I hadn’t been so enticed by his movements, I would have noticed the small, alarming purple patches of skin that ran down his sides earlier.

Quietly rising from the bed, I approached Guillaume’s frame. “What happened-?” I asked, grazing a hand over Guillaume’s bruises, but his yelp of surprise halted my question. He quickly turned around to face me, holding a half folded dark blue shirt up to his chest.

“T-Thomas?! How long have you been standing there?!” He shrieked, cheeks flushed red. Checking my chronometer, I told him the truth, “1.1 minute.” and he became visibly worried. 

“How are you so- I- I mean- I’m sorry, I thought- I thought you would still be recharging- I didn’t realize… C-Can you not do that?” He mumbled, cheeks progressively getting brighter as he spoke.

“To what are you referring?” I asked, not understanding what he wanted me not to do. Guillaume’s body shifted, his face fell, and his eyes traveled to the floor.

“Why are you- C-can you stop looking at me, please?” He squeaked, eyes shutting tight. I watched Guillaume and soon realized that he was expressing a normal human trait that came with being unclothed around others. He was uncomfortable. I swiftly turned my head to the side, avoiding his frame, and said, “You have minor injuries to your abdomen. May I document this for my objective and check your ribs for cracks or sprains?” to which Guillaume made a face and immediately yelled, “Non!”

“What happened to you? Who hurt you?” I asked, prying more than I probably should have been at that time. Guillaume’s body began trembling slightly and a hand went to the top of his towel and gripped it tightly.

“Guillaume?” I asked gently.

“C-can I get dressed first?!” he requested dramatically, and I agreed, turning completely around when Guillaume gestured with his hands for me to look away. I heard him rustling behind my back, but I waited until I heard him say, “I’m done.” before turning back around.

Guillaume stood in front of his dresser buttoning the last button to his fresh blue tactical dress shirt. His hair was dry now, but he still held the golden glow. As I moved closer to him, I fixed his crooked collar, and he blushed again. Pointing to his bed, he said, “Your uniform is over there.”

I looked to where Guillaume was pointing and noticed the outfit. It was red, unlike Guillaume’s blue, and again I wondered the significance of the colors. I walked over to the bed and lifted the shirt to my vision, inspecting it further. I looked to Guillaume and asked, “Why is mine red, and yours is blue?”

Guillaume shifted again, clamping his hands together. “Well… I’m a higher level than you. You are new, so you’re a Red. You have to work your way up to Blue.” He explained, looking at his gold plated wristwatch. “Get ready. We have to leave by 6:30 to get there on time, so we only have an hour left if we are going to eat breakfast.” He said, but instantaneously retracted his words.

“Oh yeah, that’s right… You don’t eat, do you?” he asked curiously, and I nodded. Guillaume and I stared at each other until Guillaume’s tendency to become nervous overcame him and he looked away. Moving towards his personal bathroom, he told me to, “Just- Get ready.” And I did.

I undressed myself, pulling off the clothes that Monsieur had provided for me, and heaved my legs into the new, black uniformed pants. Before I could even button them, Guillaume appeared from the bathroom. “Thomas, you don’t need to use a restroom, right? I mean if you don’t eat, I can’t see why you would have to-“ he began, but stopped when his eyes landed on me.

Mouth agape, Guillaume stared at me with wide eyes. Looking down at my body, I wondered why he was eyeing me so intently, because I could see nothing wrong with it. “Is everything okay, Guillaume?” I asked, and Guillaume snapped out of whatever daze he had been stuck in. He quickly turned around and covered his eyes with his hands.

“Oh mon dieu, Je suis tellement désolé!” He shouted, his voice riddled with shame. Holding my new red shirt in one hand, I approached Guillaume and placed my other hand on his shoulder. He flinched and shrieked, pulling away from me, and by now I was more than just a little confused.

“Don’t-! Thomas-! Put your shirt on!” he yelped, and then I understood. Guillaume was once again uncomfortable with nudity, only this time it was my nakedness that discomforted him. I hurriedly pulled the red cotton over my shoulders and stuck my arms through their designated holes, announcing, “I’m done.” just as Guillaume had done before. He turned around as I flattened out the crinkles in my shirt, his hands now covering his mouth as if he had done something wrong.

We watched each other for what felt like an eternity before we both heard a voice coming from somewhere downstairs. “Guillaume! Paul! Thomas! Venez en bas! J'ai faite le petit déjeuner!” it said, and Guillaume’s expression changed, looking just as concerned as I had been.

“She did it again.” Stated Guillaume. “I can’t believe this, she cooked again!” he yelled, frustratedly pushing through me and stomping out of the door. Quickly I followed him as he made his way through the hallway. “I woke up this early specifically so that I could make breakfast for everyone. Why does she do this!” complained Guillaume as I followed him while he practically ran down the stairs, passing several workers along the way. I waved a hand at them; a gesture of recognition, but they clearly held no interest in me, for they did not acknowledge me at all.

Hastily we crossed the empty dining room and into the kitchen, where Madame stood in front of the countertop holding a bowl unsteadily over it. “Maman, pourquoi vous ai fait cela? Vous savez que vous ne devriez pas épuiser votre force." Questioned Guillaume, quickly approaching Madame and taking the dish out of her quivering grip. She looked to him with painfully tired eyes and nodded in agreement. 

“Je suis ma fils désolé. Je dois continuer à avancer ou je vais mourir beaucoup plus tôt que vous le souhaitez.” She said, and I watched as Guillaume’s concerned expression shifted into a look of remorse. Resting the dish down on the countertop, he took his mother’s hands in his own and offered her a sad smile.

“Maman, je ne veux plus jamais te fassions mourir.” He said softly, and Madame forced a smile also. Her dejected smile was short lived though, for she finally noticed my presence, to which her wrinkled face lit up, and she gestured for me to come towards her. I went to her, and she brought her juddering arms around me in an affectionate embrace. She looked up at me from her position pressed up against my chest, and said, “Guillaume m'a parlé de votre nouveau nom, Sir Thomas. Êtes-vous satisfait de ce nom?”

“Indeed I am, Madame. I believe Guillaume likes it also.” I said with a smile, returning her embrace. Her expression showed confusion and she turned her head towards Guillaume, asking, “Que dit-il?” and Guillaume proceeded to repeat my words, only in fluent French. That was when I realized that Madame did not understand, or know how to speak English.

I apologized in French, and she released me from her hold, reassuring me that an apology was not needed. “Je vais me reposer maintenant. Passez une magnifique journée à l'école. Rester en sécurité.” Said Madame, giving Guillaume and I each a hug before leaving.

Sitting with my hands folded, I watched as Guillaume wordlessly ate his breakfast at the other end of the table and counted the time it took for him to consume each item. The small croissant was gone within the minute, while he took his time with his warm pastries and taking small sips of his hot coffee on the side. He looked up towards me and our eyes locked, his cheeks growing pink again. Why I induced this sort of reaction from him, I did not know.

He finished his breakfast after four more minutes of silence. I helped him clean the plates he used, drying and placing the now clean dishes into the cabinets, and then we were heading out the door.

Guillaume grabbed his backpack from the floor in front of the door and a golden coat off of the rack, which he swiftly fastened onto his body. Stepping into the small side closet, handing me a reddish brown leather jacket, he said, “Here. It’s cold out there today. Winter will be here soon.” and I took it, but I did not put it on. Completing the adolescent look, Guillaume handed me a silver backpack from out of the closet and I took it also.

Though he blushed when I did so, I looked Guillaume in the eye and said, “Thank you, but I don’t need this jacket. I have a soft, warm mesh coating inside my framework, covered by a thick titanium alloy that no weather could-“ but Guillaume stopped me in mid sentence, saying, “Don’t talk about your insides like that. It’s creepy.”

I stood staring down at the incompetent jacket in my hands, wondering what to do with it, until Guillaume said, “When it’s cold, humans wear something to keep them warm. People will think you’re strange if you don’t wear a jacket on a day like this.” I stared at the jacket for a moment longer before slipping my arms through it. 

Guillaume snorted and walked out of the door without me. Though I could find my way to any lengths by myself, I suddenly felt lost without Guillaume in my vision. Strapping the bag onto my back, I quickly followed him out the door, shutting it behind me, hearing the automatic lock click. We trailed the stone path until we reached the front gate and after punching in the combination, which Guillaume told me to never repeat anywhere, we began making our way to the school.

The neighborhood was dark and broody, the buildings were all made with the same dull grey bricks, and Thomas wondered why the house of de Homem Christo was built in such a habitation. Along the way we passed red and black-attired pedestrians, who each glared at us with individual hatred, but I did not ask why.

“Guillaume?” I asked

“Yes, Thomas?” he answered.

“Who hurt you?” I queried, and Guillaume blushed once again. Folding his hands over each other, he finally said, “I-It was… a bunch of kids at my school... They don’t like me very much. But it doesn’t matter; I’ll be fine.” He reassured, and though I was not convinced, I did not probe further, not eager to upset him.

Eventually we got to the entrance of a small forest that, according to Guillaume, was a short cut to the school. I followed close beside him as we walked through the small forest without much dialogue, but suddenly he began feeling around in his pocket as he walked, until he found a small, unmarked box. Flipping the box open, he pulled out a small white stick and stuck it into his mouth. It wasn’t until after he drew a lighter and lit it, that I realized he was smoking a cigarette.

Taking a deep breath of the smoke, Guillaume sighed satisfyingly. I could not let him harm himself, so I snatched the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it on the ground, stomping it under my boot into the dirt path.

Guillaume stopped in his tracks and glared at me through darkened eyes. “Thomas, I know you didn’t just do what I think you just did.” he stated, and I knew for a fact that he was upset with me. Scowling down menacingly at the flattened stick of nicotine, I kicked it again, and said, “It is not beneficial to… Cigarettes kill.” 

“Non, Thomas, they are the only things that make me feel good! Why would you do that?” He shouted bitterly, pointing down at the crushed cigarette. “Nicotine in your brain and tar in your lungs makes you feel good?” I questioned, and Guillaume gave me a sardonic smile. Pulling out another cigarette and waving it in front of my face, he said, “Yes.”

It took everything in me to resist the urge to take the entire pack of cigarettes and throw them into the flowing river beside us. I made a face and said nothing. “Je suis désolé, but I smoke, and I don’t plan on quitting until after high school; I need it to survive the shitty hellhole we’re about to step into, and that’s the only way I know that actually works.” explained Guillaume, and I was taken aback by his use of colorful language. It was strange to hear words like that coming from such a gentle person. There must have been something on my facial expression for Guillaume to guess what I was thinking, though, for he frowned at me and said, “I talk like that when I’m not home because I respect mon maman’s wishes.” and I nodded understandingly.

I stayed quiet while he lit the second cigarette and breathed in the burning smoke. Though I was eager to protect Guillaume in every way possible, I knew I would not be able to convince him to not smoke, and that bothered me somehow.  
We approached a wooden bridge that led to the end of the trees. The bridge wobbled, its loose wooden boards creaking as we walked across them. I kept my eyes on Guillaume, watching to make sure he was safe. He walked carelessly, turning his body completely around to talk to me.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“I have been functional for 37.4 hours.” I answered.

“Well, I’m just going to say that you’re seventeen. That’s believable.” Chuckled Guillaume, pointing two thumbs at me. “Is that good with you-?” he said, attempting to turn around to face the direction he was walking, but his foot got snagged on one of the crooked hunks of wood, throwing him backwards. I immediately grabbed his hand and pulled him back, his body crashing against mine.

“Are you okay?” I asked, starting to think that that question was going to be a common thing around Guillaume. Looking up at me, cheeks glowing red, he said, “Thanks Thomas.” and wriggled out of my grip. Silently, we crossed the rickety bridge and soon we passed a red and white sign that read, “School Grounds: No Smoking...” I gently tapped Guillaume on the shoulder, and said, “You should not be smoking on school grounds.” To which Guillaume sighed and threw the cigarette into the electronic trash bin.

We could see the school now, and when we finally reached it, it was much smaller than what I had expected. The two-story building was made of red and black bricks that had become victim to vandalism. Graffiti turned the large cracks that ran down the walls into bases for adolescent art. Some of the windows were completely void of glass, blocked only by bolted on slabs of metal. The grass was dead, and the concrete paths had been trampled so much that they were now crooked and chipped.

Groups of same-minded youths were scattered about in the yard, talking and playing with each other. I watched closely as the cliques of teenagers spotted Guillaume, all staring at him with looks of disdain. Two dark haired boys came up to us, and one spit on the ground in front of Guillaume. I stared incredulously at the boy, who then turned to me and asked, “Why the fuck are you hanging around this Blue Biff?”

I looked to Guillaume, searching for a suggestion on how to interact with the young humans, but he was holding his head down, leaning onto me, and holding onto the bottom of my jacket nervously, which was enough for me to know that these boys frightened him. Taking Guillaume’s hand in mine, I glared the boys down while casually walking around the saliva. I did not look back as we neared the thick metal front doors of the school; I only held Guillaume’s hand and hoped that the boys would not follow.

I pushed through loitering teenagers, effectively dragging Guillaume into the building. Thankfully, the school looked a lot cleaner and school-like inside. “Thomas, it’s okay, they aren’t following us.” Said Guillaume, tugging gently on my grip on his hand. Forgetting the scenery, I pulled Guillaume in front of me and stared intently at him.

“Are those the boys that hurt you?” I asked, and Guillaume didn’t answer. “Guillaume?” I asked again, and he looked suddenly offended. “Can you stop calling me that?” He said, and I wondered what he meant. “Don’t call you by your name?” I questioned, and Guillaume, or what ever he wanted me to call him, said, “Yes. Call me Guy-Manuel or Guy-Man… or just Guy. It’s a lot less uptight.” 

“Guy?”

“Guy.”

“Guy…” I repeated, letting the words roll out of my vocalizer. I liked the nickname, and decided that for the remainder of our time together, I would call Guillaume “Guy.” 

My first day of school was a demanding one, and Guy and I completed the day’s activities with a certain amount of gratitude for each other’s company. The other students had no problems with expressing their negative feelings, and at one point, Guy and I were being chased down the hallways, simply because Guy had accidentally bumped into an overly dramatic girl in the hall way, who proceeded to sick her lover and his friends after us both.

We had to hide in a restroom stall to get away from them. We spent the whole day together, and I had to protect him more than twice, which was more than enough for me to start calculating suspects. Even some of the teachers and staff blatantly showed their revulsion for Guy, giving him failing grades for no reason and deliberately ignoring him. The callousness was hard to bear, and I wondered how Guy had survived for so long, as he had said so that morning. 

Though at first glance I was greeted with kindness, when the others realized I was being friendly to and conversing with Guy, they began to detest me, calling me a traitor and a spy. I had no idea what they could be referring too, but later, when the bell finally rang and we were all dismissed, I found out what it meant.

Guy and I were virtually the first ones out of the building, both eager to get out of the brutal establishment. We were quiet and walked swiftly, when suddenly Guy yelped and fell backwards. I immediately turned around, expecting to see that he had somehow tripped again, but what I saw made my insides boil.

One of the dark haired boys from that morning had yanked Guy back by the hood of his coat and was now choking him with his arm around his neck. Guy tried to scream, but the boy’s arm was blocking his airway, holding him down while he struggled in his grip. Guy looked to me with terror in his eyes, and I advanced towards them, but the other boy stepped in my path.

“Not so fast, Mister Thomas.” Cooed the boy, waving a finger at me. I ignored the boy and attempted to reach Guy again, but the boy grabbed a hold of my jacket and pushed me back. I stumbled, but caught my balance before I fell. I glared at the boy and he glared back.

“What do you want?” I asked bitterly, and the boy sneered at me.

“You never answered my question.” He said, hacking up mucus and spitting it onto the ground.

“Why is my association with Guy any concern of yours?” I asked, and the boys laughed sarcastically. By now everyone had surrounded us, waiting to see what would happen; would their fellow “Red Gritter” unite with them and collectively hate “Blue Biffs”, or would the “Red Gritter” destroy what was already build and join with the “Blue Biffs”?

“’Cause he’s a Biff in Gritter territory.” He said.

“And trespassers ain’t appreciated ‘round here.” Said the other, tightening his grip around Guy’s throat.

“T-Thom-as!” cried Guy, and suddenly I heard nothing other than Guy’s choked breaths that rang in my ears. The dark haired boy started talking again, but before I knew it I was on top of him, tackling him to the ground and punching every vital region I could reach. I had the upper hand, but somehow the boy flipped me over and got on top of me, punching at the back of my head.

The surrounding students yelled and cheered, encouraging the fight, and even though they were not cheering for me, I truly did feel encouraged. I wanted nothing more than to end the lives of these audacious children for putting Guy through what they did, but as I smashed an elbow into the side of the boy’s skull, knocking the consciousness right out of him, I realized that he was just that; a child.

The surrounding students gasped and stepped back several feet as I stood up, leaving the unconscious boy lying on the ground. “Oh no, Bob!“ shouted one, “Is he dead?!” shrieked another, and the boy named Bob remained on the ground. Turning to the curly haired boy who still held Guy, I noticed his panicked expression and realized that I had won that fight. I stalked toward him, scowling at him with fury in my eyes.

“Get back!” The boy screeched, but I did not stop. I walked closer and closer until the boy was vibrating with fear. “Put him down.” I said, and the boy hesitated. As I took another step closer to him, he released Guy and stepped back into the crowd. I immediately ran to Guy, fervently placing a hand on his back as he coughed and choked, desperately trying to get air into his lungs.

“Are you okay, Guy?” I asked, but Guy was not fully aware yet. He looked up to me with tears in his eyes and suddenly his hands clasped tightly around my jacket and pulled me closer to him; his face burrowed into my neck as muffled hiccupping noises came from his throat. A sense of extreme possessiveness came over me as I held Guy’s trembling form tightly in my arms.

“What in God’s name is going on here!” yelled a strong high-pitched voice from somewhere behind us. I raised my chin up off of Guy’s head and turned to see who it was; there stood the young, slightly tall and lean principal of Halcyon High. When she saw Bob lying on the ground unconscious she gasped and immediately ran over to his side. Turning to the surrounding students, she shrieked, “What happened!” and the students pointed at me.

“He attacked Bob!” said one student, and the rest of them collectively agreed to not tell the rest of the story. The principal turned to me and fiercely asked, “Did you do this?” to which I answered truthfully.

“Yes. Bob-.” I began, but the woman cut me off with her thunderous voice.

“You can give me your reasons when your parents get here! Go to my office, now!” she shouted, pointing to the doors of the school. I obeyed, guiding Guy to his feet. When he pulled his face away from my shoulder, he was no longer hiccupping, but the evidence of his crying was still there; his cheeks were bright red and his eyes were wet with tears. He held tightly to the bottom of my jacket and kept his head down as we silently walked into the building.

An hour later we sat together outside of the principal’s office. She had contacted Guy’s father and told him what had happened, and he arrived mere moments ago. Guy had calmed down from the fight, so now we were just waiting for the two adults to make a decision. Are we guilty as charged, or are we innocent; acting on self-defense?

“Thank you, Thomas.” Said a soft voice beside me. Turning my head I looked to Guy and realized it was him who had spoken. I was not expecting him to talk to me ever again, for I knew I had done the illogical thing, took the emotional path, and I myself did not know what possessed me to do so. I could have broken the android prime directive and killed a human, and for some reason that was not so important to me. More importantly, I could have gotten Guy killed. I did not know what to say. Somehow I felt like it was my fault that Guy was receiving so much attention that day, and I felt...

Guilty.

“Thomas?” asked Guy, and I slowly looked him in the eye. Taking a deep intake of oxygen, I said, “I don’t think you should be thanking me.” and Guy made a face. “Why should I not thank you? I am grateful for what you did for me. I am going to thank you whether you like it or not... Thank you, Thomas.” He said flatly, and by the tone of his voice, I supposed that was the end of that matter.

“You’re welcome.” I stated, and Guy nodded.

“I wish Maman wasn’t so sick. Then I wouldn’t have to be here.” Said Guy after a moment of silence. “That sounded really selfish…” He continued. 

“Do you mean her muscle spasms?” I asked, and Guy took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yes. She has an autoimmune disease that was removed from human DNA decades ago… But she has it. It’s called ‘Primarily Progressing Multiple Sclerosis’… or something like that.” He said, and I immediately began searching within my database for anything similar.

“Primary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis?” I asked, wanting to be sure.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Said Guy, and I wondered what the disease could essentially be. There wasn’t much of anything inside my database except a name and a small footnote that read, “Insignificant Information”

“Is it curable?” I asked, and Guy sighed. 

“Non. Our hospitals didn’t know how to deal with it. They didn’t even have any medicine. Gritter Hospitals did though. Mon père moved us near the ‘best’ one he could find. That’s how we ended up here a few months ago.” Explained Guy, his sorrow apparent on his expression. “I-It’s hard, you know?” he began, voice cracking. “Knowing that your mother is going t-to die and being able to do absolutely nothing about it. All I can do is tend to her flowers so she can look out her window and still feel happy. Those flowers were everything to her.” he continued, hands beginning to shake slightly.

“Why do you speak in past tense?” I asked, hearing Guy make a small, defeated noise. I looked into his eyes and my jaw hung open, for Guy looked terribly hurt. “Because… B-Because…” he tried, but he could not get the words out of his mouth. Tears began to form in his eyes and he threw his head into his hands. Feeling the need to comfort him, I extended a hand to his back, but he jerked away.

“Je suis désolé, Guy. I did not mean to upset you.” I said, but Guy’s sobs only got heavier. “W-why should I speak of her as if I know she is going t-to be there when I g-get home if I-I don’t? She could be d-dead right now! No one here gives a damn about what I’m going through, they just see my blue shirt and immediately assume that I’m evil. I didn’t choose to be a Biff. I just- I- I want mon maman back so that we can go home!” he sobbed, not looking at me. Unsure of what to do, I stood up out of my seat and crouched down in front of Guy, my height making us almost leveled.

“Je suis désolé, Guy.” I said again, but he remained where he was. Gently resting my hands on his wrists, I rubbed circles into his hands while he cried. “I will not let anybody harm you anymore. For now on, my guard will be up at all times. As for your mother… You are doing everything you can do. Yes, it is hard, but you will survive. Dying is a part of life that everyone has to experience.” I said, attempting to console him.

Guy slowly looked up out of his hands, tears still falling down his cheeks. Suddenly, though, he smiled at me. His expression was ruined by the remnants of tears; I reached a hand to his face and tenderly wiped them from his cheeks with my thumb. His cheeks were warm and red and I wondered how much of it was from his crying and how much was from my touch.

“Get up! We are leaving!” shouted a voice none other than Monsieur. I had not noticed when he had stepped out of the room, and I doubted Guy did either, but judging by his swift pace, it was not very long ago. He was already half way down the hall before we even stood up. “Now!” barked Monsieur from down the hall as we rushed to catch up to him.

When we caught up to him, he was fuming, and neither of us asked what the verdict was, not wanting to see him explode. Monsieur kicked the school doors open, and soon we were in his car, heading home. It was a silent drive, Guy and I exchanging glances, until Monsieur finally spoke to us.

“Neither of you are expelled, I couldn’t prove that the machine acted in self-defense. Yes, I know that thing has live video of everything that happened, but if I told Ms. Goulding that I enrolled an android into her school she would flip shit.” He explained, and Guy sighed in relief.

“So… What happened?” asked Guy, and Monsieur coughed into his hand.

“You both have a month of suspension. I will have to go pick up your work tomorrow.” Stated Monsieur, his voice tight as he opened his window and punched in the security code for the gate. The gate opened and we pulled into the driveway quietly, Madame sat on the porch waiting for us. Monsieur said nothing as he open the door and stomped into the house. 

“Êtes-vous deux d'accord?” asked Madame, and Guy explained to her what happened. She gestured for me to come to her, and she kissed me on my cheek, thanking me for taking care of her son. I could not help but notice her trembling hands that gripped my jacket, and wonder how much longer she had before it was time for her to die. It discomforted me, but I did not show it.

Guy began to make his way to the back yard, and I followed, biding Madame farewell. There we trailed the stone path, silently enjoying each other’s company. Later we sat down in the meadow of sunflowers and tended to them, this time cautious of the neighboring rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this update :D  
> Translations:
> 
> "Guillaume! Paul! Thomas! Come down! I made breakfast! "
> 
> "Mom, why have you done this? You know you should not exhaust your strength. "
> 
> "I'm sorry my son. I must keep moving or I will die much sooner than you want." 
> 
> "Mom, I do not ever want you to die." 
> 
> "Guillaume told me about your new name, Sir Thomas. Are you satisfied with that name? "
> 
> "What did he say?" 
> 
> "I'm going to rest now. Have a wonderful day at school. Stay safe. "
> 
> "I'm sorry." 
> 
> "Are you two okay?"


	4. My Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas is having trouble with his emotions, and Guy is confronted.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Attempted Rape, Rape Aftermath, A Lot Of Crying

I assumed my main objective was complete, but a day had passed since Guy and I were suspended, and Monsieur had yet to “make time” for me to show him the events of that afternoon. I came to the conclusion that the information I had collected was not enough. I needed something more convincing than an after-school brawl. I was unsure of what I could do to give more information than that, but I needed to find something.

Guy and I both received schoolwork, but I had finished calculating my data earlier that afternoon. I knew Guy would not be able to efficiently do as much as I had done in the same amount of time, so I sat on the edge of his bed, patiently waiting for him to do his work. I could see that he was having trouble with the complicated math equations, but my many offers to help had been politely declined, which led to my current objective; to “sit still and be quite.”

I watched curiously as Guy's eyes closed and he groaned, throwing his head into his arms. "Why do I need to know this if I could just ask you?" He asked, and I answered accordingly.

"Because you will need to know how to do things like math for yourself when I am gone." I said, feeling a harsh stabbing sensation in my chest. Guy turned to face me with a pained look on his face, and at that moment I realized that I did not want to leave Guy's side... But ultimately it was not my choice to make.

"I will not always be here with you." I said again, looking away as I desperately wanted to retract the knowledge back into the deep hidden parts of my processor. Suddenly Guy was sitting beside me, and I had no time to react before he wrapped his arms around my shoulders in a tight hug.

"Guy?" I asked.

"I don't want you to leave either... My father is a stubborn man." He said, his body tensing slightly as I wrapped my arms around him, returning the embrace. I believe Guy would have stayed in my arms (and I would not have argued) if it weren't for the loud crash and the sound of someone yelling in pain that came from somewhere downstairs. Instinctively, we both tightened our grip on each other, staring in the direction of the door.

"Maman?" Said, Guy, recognizing the voice. I tried to tell him to be careful, because he didn't know what was going on, and could put himself in danger, but he did not seem to care as he wiggled out of my grip and ran out the door. I quickly followed him through the hallways and down the stairs, past the dining room and into the kitchen, where we found Monsieur standing over Madame, who was kneeling on the floor staring at her arms.

“Maman? Êtes-vous d'accord?” Asked Guy, rushing to kneel beside his mother. I guessed that Monsieur had tried to get Madame to cook again, but judging by the pot of hot water and half cooked pasta that was spilled across the floor, and the redness of Madame's arms, that did not work out very well.

Madame was getting worse, and for reasons unknown to me, that simple fact brought a stinging pain to my core.

“Don't mind her, she is doing as I told her, like a good wife. She's just a little clumsy, that's all." Said Monsieur as he clapped for a servant to come clean up the spilled pasta. The servant passed me without even a look of acknowledgment, and I almost wanted to say something, until I noticed Guy's angered expression. 

"A little clumsy?! Mon Père, she is dying! She needs to rest, not hurt herself more by working!" He yelled, and he immediately knew it was a mistake. Quickly Monsieur made his way to Guy, a yelp of pain escaping Guy as Monsieur grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking him up to his feet. 

“Lower your tone, Boy! I will not be spoken to in such a manner!" Barked Monsieur, and I could see the tears forming in Guy's widened eyes. Every ounce of my being wanted to throw Monsieur into the wall and beat him into unconsciousness, but the realization of my own thoughts halted my actions. Monsieur was my master, and a human; I should not be wanting to hurt him at all.

The more I contemplated my thoughts and the abnormal state of the House of de Homem-Christo, the more confusing it became. I had promised Guy that I would protect him, but right now, I was unsure of who to protect him from.

“Mais, mon père-!"

"Don't you dare make me repeat myself!" Yelled Monsieur, roughly pushing Guy towards me. He stumbled, and I caught him before he fell, but he looked up at me with those extravagant eyes, and anger blinded my processor. I forced myself to remain calm. 

Burying his face into my chest, Guy bit back a sob. "This is all your fault!" He yelled desperately, tears trailing down his cheeks as I held onto him. Pulling away from my hold once again and facing his father, he cried, "You're killing her!” before running out the door behind me. I didn't bother asking permission to leave, for Guy's wellbeing was my only concern at the moment, and that overshadowed any code. 

I watched as Guy made his way through the foyer and out the front door, not bothering to grab his golden coat. “Guy?” I called out to him, but he did not respond. He kept on walking in the opposite direction of the school as I grabbed both of our jackets and began after him, swiftly catching up when I became aware of the temperature that had decreased significantly from the day before. I followed silently as Guy trudged down the long road, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

Soon we were in the center of town, and from what I could see, it was completely “Gritter” territory. Guy didn't seem to care as he approached a small building with a sign above the door that read “L'Aventura Pain” in scripted letters. I wasn't entirely sure how bread could be considered adventurous, but I didn't ask. “I don't think this is a good idea." I said, briefly worried if it was safe for Guy to be in this area, but my suspicions were set aside when Guy opened the door to the bakery and walked inside.

It seemed to be empty; nothing but glass cases filled with different types of bread and pastries, but when Guy picked up the silver bell on the counter and rang it, I heard a loud voice that called, "One moment, please!" Guy stood quietly, soft hiccups shaking his body as he waited for the person to appear.

When the voice made itself visible, we were immediately greeted by a large smile. “Ah, quelle bonne surprise! I wasn't expecting you here today!” Said the bearded Frenchman from behind the counter as he slapped the flour from off of his hands. The man's cheery expression shifted into worry as he came closer, for he noticed the tears gushing down Guy's cheeks. “Quel est le problème mon garçon?! Are you alright?” He yelled, and Guy shook his head while attempting to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“Bonjour, Sébastien... I'm having another bad week.” Spoke Guy finally, and the baker frowned deeply.

“Non, non, non, we can't have that.” Began Sébastien. “I know exactly how to make you feel better. You come with me this instant!” He exclaimed, gesturing through the opening in the counter. I was unaware of the reason why this “Gritter” was concerned for Guy, and given me experience with Gritters, I was not willing to trust the man so easily.

“Who is this? A friend?” Asked Sébastien, giving me a hard look as if he had just noticed my presence. Busy staring back at the baker, I did not see when Guy moved to clasp his hand around mine.

“Oui. This is Thomas.” Said Guy, and laughed loudly.

“Ah, bon! Come, Thomas, come!” Yelled the baker, disappearing through the “La Cuisine” doors. Guy's grip on my hand tightened as we followed into the kitchen. Ovens lined the walls, and the counter-tops were covered with flour and dough. The baker tapped on one of the bright lights that hung from the ceiling as he began up the stairs on the far side of the room. “Food is the remedy for every dejected heart.” He said as he opened the door at the top of the staircase, letting in a wave of sunlight.

Many pots of red and orange flowers bordered the sides of the roof, and a glass table with two chairs pushed up under it were set up in the middle. “Here is where I take my women to woo them.” Laughed Sébastien, and I saw the blush on Guy's ears even from behind him. “Come, come, sit down.” Called the baker as he pulled out the chairs. Quickly we obeyed the man, sitting in the chairs that had been pulled out for us.

“Wait here while I prepare something special for you two!” Said Sébastien excitedly as he shut the door behind him, leaving Guy and I alone on the roof. Guy remained looking at the scenery displayed before us as if it was esthetically pleasing, but I did not find it as nice. I would rather stare at Guy, for he was more beautiful than any scene.

I watched Guy gaze down at the streets below until a question crossed my mind. “Guy?” I asked, and he turned towards me, his eyelids puffed from crying. "Did you lie to Sébastien?” I asked, and Guy's expression changed to confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

“I am an Android, yet you told him that I was your friend... Why?" I explained, but Guy didn't say anything, only stared back at me with a small smile. He remained quiet, maybe thinking of what to say, as I suddenly noticed his shivering. Silently I stood up out of my chair and approached Guy, kneeling down so we were eye to eye.

"What are you...?" Asked Guy, trailing off as I took the golden jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders, his gratitude showing on his face when he realized what I was doing. "Thank you, Thomas." He said, and I smiled as I watched the blush forming on his cheeks. "I told Sébastien you were my friend because it's true." Said Guy, and I felt something snap... Something inside my core.

My jaw hung open as a mixture of feelings? came over me; affection, concern, confusion, anger... and then I was scared. "N-no. Androids can not-" I began, but Guy placed a hand on mine, silencing me.

"Ma Maman said you were programmed only to find the truth of my wellbeing, not to protect me..." Said Guy, and my eyes widened in fear. Was that true? "You chose to risk your life for me, and you chose to care about my feelings..." Said Guy softly, his tone sending small shocks of electricity down my back with every syllable. I wanted to silence Guy's frightening words, but something inside my processor wanted to keep hearing how wrong I was. 

"You are my friend... my best friend." Said Guy, and I felt as though the wires in my abdomen were twisting painfully around each other. I stared at Guy with wide eyes, and he stared back, a soft pinkness forming on his cheeks. Something was definitely wrong with my programming, or my hardware or something else entirely, but I knew it had to be something, because I had an overwhelming urge to press my lips against Guy's.

Guy and I turned in surprise as Sébastien burst through the door, his hands full of our food on a silver plate. Immediately I stood up and made my way back to my chair, the strange urges subsiding. "I present: two fresh baguettes with my homemade onion dipping sauce!" He shouted as he approached us, placing the plate in the middle of the table. 

"Oh, wow! Thank you, Sébastien." Said Guy, looking the happiest I had ever seen him. 

"It was a pleasure." Smiled Sébastien, turning towards the door. "I'll leave you two alone. Apprécier votre repas, mes amis!" Said the baker as he strolled back through the way he came. Guy took one of the baguettes in his hand and ripped it into two pieces, dipping one half into the onion sauce. I watched curiously as Guy swallowed down the baguette within the minute. He must have really liked the bread.

After about ten minutes of shy glances, Guy elected it was time to leave, placing the uneaten baguette into the bag the Sébastien had given to us. Saying goodbye to the baker, Guy began walking in the direction of his home, and I followed, eager to get out of Gritter territory.

I knew I should have been strict when voicing my concern, especially when Guy decided to take another shortcut, for we barely made it halfway through the alleyway before something smashed into the back of my head. I heard Guy call my name as I fell to the ground, my processor being shocked into an emergency shut down.

Before my systems were completely up and running, I opened my eyes to find the same angry faces from my first day of school standing around Guy, who was laying on top of a pile of filled garbage bags with bindings on his wrists. I could not hear anything yet, for my audio receptors were still offline, but I could see that Guy was yelling. He said something as the boy named Tommy Tea leaned in and placed his hand on Guy's cheek in what seemed like a loving caress. I tried to stand up, but I felt a heavy something, or someone, push me back to the ground, holding me down.

"Guy?" I spoke, and the teenagers all stared down at me, their laughter filling my ears.

"Oh Look, Blue! Your boyfriend's awake." Said Tommy, leaning down to cup Guy's chin in his hand. "Good thing too; he almost missed all the fun." Smirked Tommy, pushing his mouth onto Guy's.

I was frozen.

When Guy's muffled cries stopped, and Tommy removed his tongue from his mouth, I did not know what to think. 

"Look at him, Blue. He likes watching you like this; all tied up and open for the taking." Laughed Tommy, forcing Guy to look at me. His cheeks burned bright, and I could tell he was on the verge of tears. It was then that I realized what was happening. I must have shorted a circuit, for I felt a small ping of... jealousy?

"You hurt my boy Bobby." Said Tommy, grabbing a hold of Guy's belt and pulling it loose. "He's in pretty bad shape."

"Good." I stated, and Tommy stared back at me with a hateful gaze, unbuttoning Guy's pants.

"What the fuck is your deal, Thomas? First you start hanging out with a Blue, now you're dating him? Living together too?" Started Tommy, pulling Guy's pant zipper apart and pushing his hand into Guy underwear. "Don't you think that's a little bit too far?" He continued, and Guy gasped loudly.

"S-stop it!" Cried Guy, and Tommy's expression hardened.

"Shut your mouth, Biff! I ain't talking to you!" Spat Tommy, gripping Guy's member and stroking it roughly.

"N-no, no, no, please stop!" Begged Guy in-between sobs. "You can't do this!"

"You're lucky, Guy! I should've just bent you over and fucked the stupid out of you already, so shut it!" Barked Tommy as tears finally fell from Guy's eyes. I was powerless until my systems completely configurated, but I watched as this boy molested Guy, and I begged my inner hardware to hurry up.

"Thomas, do something, please!" Pleaded Guy, his trembling voice sending me into a fit of overwhelming rage. I suddenly felt the strength return to my limbs, and at that moment I knew Guy was right. I wanted to protect him, I wanted to care about him, and I wanted to be his friend.

A friend wouldn't let this happen.

A friend would do anything to protect Guy.

I would do anything to protect Guy.

I was Guy's friend.

I could not let this happen.

Growling, I pushed the weight of whoever was holding me off of my back and jumped to my feet. I looked at Tommy, who still had his hand down Guy's pants, and then to his posse of armed teenagers rushing to put me down. Quickly I scanned the group, their statistics and body indexes appearing on my Heads Up Display, planning to find some way to disarm them and get around them to get to Guy, but somehow my arm raised without my permission, transforming into some sort of weapon I never knew I had. 

Without warning, I shot one fiery blast into each of the children's chests, leaving holes of burning flesh, their now dead bodies falling to the ground. Tommy stared past the corpses at me, completely shocked 

"You're an... an Android? But how did you...?" Said Tommy, as I silently approached him, weapon still raised. Immediately Tommy removed his filthy hands from Guy's frame, raising them both up in a gesture of peace as Guy fell to his knees, trying to cover himself and hold his sobs at the same time.

I charged my newly found weapon, ready to fire.

"Whoa, whoa, Dude, calm down! I didn't know! I'm sorry!" Explained Tommy, his hands beginning to shake. "Can't we just put this all behind us?" He asked... I lowered my weapon, and Tommy sighed in relief.

I glanced at Guy, the only thing I had to live for, but he wasn't looking at me. He wasn't looking at anything for that matter. Those wide extravagate eyes were looking down at that concrete, with a constant flow of tears falling from them.

"No." I said as I approached Tommy, "I will not 'Put this behind me'." I gave him no time to respond, or even to process what I had said before I punched him so hard in the nose I heard it crack. He fell to the ground clutching his face, blood spewing from both of his nostrils. On his knees, he looked up to say something else, most likely to beg some more, but I didn't give him the chance. I kicked my foot into his abdomen, and then again, and then again, until he doubled over in pain, coughing up thick globs of blood

"I'm sorry. Please. I'll leave him alone, I swear, just please stop." He coughed, staring at me with fear in his eyes as I crouched down to his level. With each consecutive punch, I felt my programming becoming insignificant. Every aspect of what I should have been was falling apart, and I relished every moment of it.

I don't know how long Tommy Tea had been dead before I felt a soft, delicate touch on my shoulder, halting my movements. I turned to see Guy looking down at me with heavy eyelids, his hands still bound together. I stood up, bringing my bloody hands to his, pulling the restraints apart with ease. 

"Guy? Are you-?" I slowly began, but I instantly saw the pained expression I received in return. He looked down at his own body for a moment and made a face as if he were disgusted. His pants were still unbuttoned, and his shirt had been ripped, but I knew that's not what he was upset about. He began to tremble as the tears began to fall once again, and I knew he was not okay.

I closed the distance between us, wrapping my arms around Guy. I felt a harsh pain in my chest as his fingers gripped my shirt, not bothering to hold back his sobs anymore. Suddenly Guy's weight was placed on me as his legs gave out from under him, and we were both brought to the ground. He did not let go of me, and I did not let go of him. I cupped his head with one hand and rubbed circles on his back with the other, my fury being replaced by concern.

"I'm okay." Said Guy after what felt like hours of sitting in silence, his voice barely audible. I was not going to take that as an answer. Not this time. I pulled away from him enough to see his face, and he looked like all the color had been drained out of him. His eye's were closed and his whole frame was shaking. I was ready to take him home, to wherever he needed to go, but he was falling asleep.

Then I noticed the purple patches forming on his skin, and I realized that I did not know what they had done to him while I was offline.

"Guy. I need you to look at me." I said as Guy's eyes fluttered open. "We have to go home. We can't stay here any longer."

"T-tired." Said Guy, his voice sounding more broken than I had ever heard it.

"You just have to stand up for a moment, Guy, I'll do the rest." I said, and one last sob escaped him as I helped him to his feet. He was exhausted. Without a word I lifted him up into my arms, his head resting on my shoulder. He wrapped his arms around my neck as I began to walk away from the bloody scene I had left for some unlucky soul to find, and in minutes we were home.

It really was a shortcut, I thought as we approached the front gate. I pushed the appropriate code and we were inside, but I hadn't noticed how dark the night had become. The sun was still in the sky, but it was making a quick exit, and the temperature was decreasing by the minute.

When I open the doors, there was no one in sight, and I thanked the air. I made my way up the stairs and down the hallway, through Guy's bedroom door and into his personal bathroom. I traveled quietly pass the mirror to the large tub and was planning on placing Guy in, but when I tried to put him down, he freaked out. A scream of terror escaped his throat and I immediately hugged his shaking frame once again.

"P-please don't leave." Whispered Guy, his request holding more meaning than I had first thought... But I made him a promise.

"I will not." I said. "Not now, not ever." I continued, as Guy used the little bit of strength he had left to pull me down into the tub with him.

"Stay with me." He said, and I said nothing, tightening my hold on him and carefully lifting him up so we were standing, much of Guy's weight being placed on me.

"I need to..." I started, and Guy looked up at me with the purest and most trusting look I had ever seen. After I received a juddering nod in agreement, I began removing our clothing, hugging Guy close to my chest when I was done, for the flowing tears had returned.

"It's alright, Guy. You're safe now, you're gonna be okay." I began as I brought us to the floor of the bath, pulling Guy into my lap. "I'm here to protect you." I said, turning the knobs next to the faucet until warm water poured out, slowly filling the tub.

I grabbed the blue washcloth and gently washed our bodies of Tommy's blood, watching as the water slowly turned pink. When we were finished in the bathroom, I wrapped a towel around his frame, guiding Guy to his bed. I wiped him down with the fluffy towel until he was completely dry, and then I dried myself. Guy watched my every movement, flinching when I placed a hand on his shoulder and softly pushed him down.

"Do you want me to sleep with you?" I asked, and Guy nodded. I climbed into the bed with him, pulling the blanket over our naked bodies. I was hesitant to touch him while in a state like this, but when small shudders began racking his frame, I pushed my fears aside and hugged him close.

He fell asleep with my soft whispers in his ear, and I wondered briefly if he was going to be mad at me when he woke up, but again, I pushed my fears aside, carefully moving to plug in my charger into the wall, and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep also.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer's hard drive died and I lost everything, but this story is very special to me, so don't worry, I will be continuing it! Thanks so much for waiting guys! Your comments are so encouraging to me, thank you!


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